


Some Thought

by DictionaryWrites2



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Image, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18794305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites2/pseuds/DictionaryWrites2
Summary: “Hm. Well. I might– I might lose some weight, dearheart, that’s all.”Crowley raised his head, his lips downturning at their edges, his brow furrowing in what seems to be genuine perplexity.“Oh,” he said.





	Some Thought

The body of Ezra Fell - in stark contrast to the body of Anthony J. Crowley - had been selected to  _not_  draw attention. This was usually the case with his bodies: once upon a time, he’d pick big bodies he never really felt like he fit in, with muscle or bulk, that he might blend in amongst slaves; at other times, he would pick skinny, thin bodies of ageing tutors and clerks. Usually, unlike Crowley, he had tended toward older faces, but now…

He’s had this body for a little under two hundred years now.

He’d wanted to just fade into the background a bit, so he’d picked the usual age, in the fifties, gone for a white face and red cheeks, picked blond hair that was soft but bland in its colour, picked eyes that were blue, but with a watered-down colour. The Host liked it when you picked the “appropriate” things, but Aziraphale didn’t want to draw  _attention_. And certain things helped with that, now that they were approaching the 21st century: he layered his clothing, hid his body, and the body itself was…  _well-padded_. There were benefits, of course, in that he might eat as much as he pleased and not mind where it landed on his body, that he might favour his comfortable life of studious indolence. More and more, people looked away from bodies like the one he now favoured, with its heavy seat and thick thighs, its softness and its fat.

Not what he wanted to be ugly, per se, but certainly not  _handsome_ , certainly not  _attractive_.

He didn’t have time for nonsense like that.

Especially in the Hyacinth and Vine, surrounded by all those poor young men in need of guidance, he hardly wanted to draw attention as a potential  _suitor_. And he had, now and then, but he’d always gently put people off from him, but now…?

Now, things were different. Now, he had Crowley -  _had_  him. They slept together in the same bed, sometimes, at Crowley’s flat or at Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale had even been looking at cottages in the South Downs, had even considered…

It was different, now. 

His body had never been selected for sexuality, but now, now there was sexuality, and intimacy, and romance, and Crowley was ever so  _chic_. He liked his sleek, modern lines and his sleek, modern body, liked all of the thin furniture and his skinny volumes of poetry, his silks and sheer fabrics… 

When people saw him with Crowley, saw Crowley wound about his neck or his hips, saw Crowley kissing him or fussing over him or sitting in his lap, they looked… Aziraphale knew what they looked like. They’d looked like that for nearly a hundred years, and humans had their funny little suspicions, but now those suspicions were quite  _right_ , and when they looked at the two of them - looked at Aziraphale - with such disgust,  _revulsion,_ distaste _…_

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley’s eyes fluttered open, revealing sleepy, serpentine eyes, his chin resting on Aziraphale’s naked belly. He seemed to be spending an awful lot of time there, as of recent: sprawled over Aziraphale’s thighs or making use of his prominent gut as a pillow, melting over him… “Do you think, my dear, er– Merely that I know that you… Ought I, do you think…?”

Crowley blinked slowly, languorously. 

“Hm. Well. I might– I might lose some weight, dearheart, that’s all.”

Crowley raised his head, his lips downturning at their edges, his brow furrowing in what seems to be genuine perplexity. 

“Oh,” he said. His frown deepened with every moment, and his expression was a mix of baffled and, Aziraphale was thrown to note,  _disappointment_. Crowley’s grip seemed to tighten as he wrapped his arms more around Aziraphale’s thighs, his fingers pressing into the thick meat of Aziraphale’s hips and squeezing plaintively. “ _Why_?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. That was… That was slightly different. Not that it was  _all_  about Crowley, of course - this was Aziraphale’s body, of course, this was his own body. But Aziraphale’s sense of intimacy, of sexuality, was wound up in Crowley’s sinuous form, in his lithe body, his  _muscle_ – “No… No reason. Just… thinking about it.”

“Oh,” Crowley said again. “Do you…  _have_  to?”

“No.”

“S’your body, of course. Not that I’d… You know. Complain.”

“Of course.”

“Right. Just that… I like it… like this.” Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale’s  belly, away from his eyes, and muttered, “S’ _nice_. It’s  _sexy_.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I will… give it some thought.” He didn’t ask why, Aziraphale noted. Crowley didn’t ask  _why_. Did he know why? Did he mind? Did he… Crowley was kissing his belly all over, making obscene sounds as he did so, nipping at the flesh, and it was making it rather difficult to concentrate.

He would table these thoughts for later. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Some Thought](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841857) by [burnhamofvulcan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnhamofvulcan/pseuds/burnhamofvulcan)




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